Lottie's Legacy

By Gail MacMillan

Lottie Danvers is beautiful and mysterious. No man can resist her charms, though she holds all men at bay. But who is she, and what is the possibly dangerous past she wants to leave behind? It will take an exceptional man to accept her as she is.

Reverend Jack Wallace is intrigued by Lottie. A widower with a sixteen-year-old daughter, he has been alone for years. Is Lottie the woman he needs in his life? He has secrets of his own. Is he willing to marry her without knowing of her past, especially with the town busybody admonishing him every step of the way?

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: May 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781509240555

Gail MacMillan

Award winning author of 26 published books.

Book preview

Chapter One

Barely conscious, bruised and bleeding, Lottie Danvers lay in the Edinburgh gutter and begged for death to end her misery. In the midnight darkness, a bitter March wind peppered her with rain, and ice pellets assaulted her.

The clop of horses’ hooves on the stones of the street and the creak of wheels roused her. Were they returning?

Horror engulfed her. Frantic, she struggled to get to her feet. Failing, she slumped back into the filth and waited, heart pounding hard against her chest.

Stop! The command brooked no refusal.

Horses snorted and stamped. A door rasped open and booted footsteps strode toward her. They halted by her side.

Good God! a male voice muttered. Through half-opened eyes she saw a figure, water spouting from the brim of his hat, bending over her.

No! Terror wrenching at her heart, she held up a hand in the only protest she could muster as he dropped on one knee beside her.

Don’t be frightened. His tone was gentle. I mean you no harm.

She tried to speak, but all that came from her lips was a broken moan. Defeated, she let her hand drop to her side.

Biggs, hold the horses steady. Strong arms gathered her up. We’re to have a passenger.

In a dizzy haze of pain, too weak to protest, she was lifted into a carriage and placed on a padded seat.

Drive on, a sharp command and a rap on the roof ordered.

As the vehicle lurched forward, the movement brought a gasp from her lips.

Rest, the male voice soothed. You’re safe.

She tried to focus on her companion but saw only a male silhouette in the darkness. Lottie slumped into a corner as a dry garment was placed over her. The soft wool offered a measure of comfort, and she clutched at it.

I’m not going to die in the gutter was her last conscious thought.

****

He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.

Looking out over his meagre congregation, Reverend Jack Wallace ended his reading. A sixteen-year-old girl on the front bench and a white-haired, bearded gentleman on the one at the rear were his only audience.

The irony of the situation made a corner of Jack’s mouth twitch. Apparently he’d chosen the text for his homily too late. His flock had already judged him and found his sin too grievous to forgive. He’d hoped in a university town like Fredericton, New Brunswick, in the spring of 1819, people would be sufficiently broadminded to accept him.

Let us conclude this Sabbath’s service with the singing of the hymn ‘Amazing Grace.’  He drew a deep breath and plunged ahead.

Raising his voice in the familiar words, he began. The girl stood, shoulders back, head held high, and joined him. The elderly man at the rear clutched his cane and struggled to his feet to add his support in a deep, resonating baritone.

When they ended the hymn, Jack raised his hands and offered a benediction, May the Good Lord bless and keep you.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he descended from the pulpit and walked down the center aisle to the door. The girl followed, hands clasped, head bowed, the man wearing spectacles behind her. When the trio moved outside onto the church’s top step into the foggy drizzle of a bleak March morning, Jack saw a collection of a dozen young men across the street. Standing amid patches of melting snow, they glared at him.

A fine homily, John. Above his snowy beard, the man from the rear bench smiled at him through thick spectacles. Most fitting.

Thank you, Theodore. With a rueful grin, he shook the man’s proffered hand. I had prayed for a wider audience.

Your flock, as you so often generously call them, are a collection of judgmental fools! The man’s voice rose with indignation. What you’ve done in no way…

A clod of earth stuck the church door beside them.

Heathen! The word rang out from among the group in the street. Another lump hit the building. Sinner!

Excuse us, Professor, but I think we’d best be going. Jack took his daughter’s arm. Come along, Cathy.

Yes, yes, I quite agree. The elderly man gripped his cane with a vehemence that whitened his knuckles. If I were younger…

If you were younger, Theodore, what I can guess you’d be contemplating wouldn’t be a wise move.

I suppose you’re right. The professor sighed. You’ll have to forgive me. Since I’m not a man of God, I’m not as adept at turning the other cheek as you are. Good day to you, Miss Catherine.

Good day, Professor Foley. She bobbed a curtsy.

Grasping his cane, he went down the steps and headed up the street to round the corner in the direction of the university.

Ignoring the rabble, Jack descended the steps, his grip on Cathy’s arm tightening as he headed them toward the manse next door. Head held high, his daughter marched by his side. He marveled at this child with whom he’d been blessed. Not only was she beautiful, she also had courage and dignity.

Another object hurtled through the air. With a cry, his daughter slumped against him. He caught her in his arms before she could fall to the ground. A fist-sized rock quivered on the road beside them.

****

Will she recover? Reverend Jack Wallace stood at the end of his daughter’s bed and waited for the doctor’s verdict.

I won’t make rash promises, John. The gray-haired physician heaved a sigh as he stood from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the unconscious girl’s bed. A thick bandage had been wound about her head. She’s taken a serious blow to the temple. The next few hours will tell.

This is my fault. Jack threw back his head and closed his eyes. I shouldn’t have allowed her to go to church this morning. I knew some members of my congregation were at odds with what they discovered I’d been doing. The sins of the fathers…

Some have gone so far as to brand you a heretic. Doctor Blake picked up his bag and headed for the door.

And you, Nelson? What is your opinion? Jack opened his eyes to face the man squarely.

John, you’ve been treading on dangerous ground. Perhaps if you’d managed to keep it quiet, if your congregation hadn’t found out…

Nelson, I’m asking for your personal opinion.

Very well. The doctor heaved a sigh. I think you should be free to do as you please, but knowing this community as well as I do, I realize your actions have rendered it impossible for you to redeem yourself among its people. If I were you, I’d leave…go somewhere rogues such as yourself are tolerated, quite possibly even accepted. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on Miss Cathy. Good day to you, Reverend Wallace.

He picked up his black bag and left the room.

Chapter Two

Lottie opened her eyes and blinked in the shaft of sunlight.

Where am I? How did I get here?

Slowly becoming aware of her surroundings, she realized she was in a wide, luxurious bed, its sheets and pillows soft and clean. As her scope of comprehension widened, she became aware that she was in a large chamber, high-ceilinged, with fine furnishings and two tall, elegantly curtained windows letting in a gush of sunlight. A young woman in the garb of a housemaid was briskly folding fresh linen at the far side of the room.

Good morning. Lottie struggled to speak, but the words came out as a harsh croak.

You’re awake. The maid hastened to her bedside, a smile lighting up her plump, pretty face. His lordship will be that pleased.

His lordship? Again that strange-sounding voice she realized had to be her own.

Sir Jeffrey, him what brought you here. I must fetch him. He left strict orders that I was to tell him the minute you came back to us.

She hustled out of the room before Lottie could question her further.

The servant had said, Sir Jeffrey. She struggled at the fog in her mind. The coach. Strong arms lifting her. Being wrapped in the warmth of soft wool.

And then nothing. For a long time, nothing. How long had she been unaware…?

So you’re back with us. A man’s voice, bright with enthusiasm, made her flinch. Gingerly turning her head toward the sound, she saw a tall male figure entering the room and advancing toward the bed. Excellent, excellent.

Perfectly groomed and dressed in the height of fashion, he had a handsome face, broad shoulders, and a self-assured attitude. An aristocrat.

Dr. Coat has visited and declared that all you need is rest and care. I can assure you of both. Now what may I do for you this fine morning? What do you require?

Your name. She forced the request over bone-dry lips and mouth.

Of course. Where are my manners? Jeffrey Tinsdale, your servant, ma’am. He bowed. And yours?

She hesitated. Her thoughts were clearing, remembrance and fear returning.

Charlotte…Charlotte Dally.

I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Dally. It is miss? He raised an eyebrow.

Yes.

And so, Miss Dally, is there someone I should notify on your behalf? Someone who will be relieved to know you’re alive and recovering?

No. The word came out more sharply than she intended as memory after memory tumbled back into her mind. Then, more softly, No one.

Very well then. His expression held only a slight hesitation before he continued. You will remain with us. Lilly will to see to your needs. She’s an excellent lady’s maid. She tended to my…wife.

Tended?

My wife died a year ago. He turned and went to stare out the window. She was run down by a carriage…much as I suspect you were.

I’m sorry.

So he thinks I’ve been run down by a carriage. I won’t have to explain further.

Thank you. He swung back to face her, a weak smile on his lips, his eyes too bright. Now—he revived his former cheerful outlook—I must be off. Good day to you, Miss Charlotte Dally.

After he’d gone, Lottie looked across the room toward the long windows and saw her satin gown hanging over the back of a chair. It was torn and stained, barely recognizable as the elegant garment it had once been.

I’m afraid your lovely dress is ruined, miss. The maid, catching her gaze, paused in her work. I thought to try to clean and repair it, but on close examination, I realized it was hopeless.

Yes…yes, I can see that it is quite beyond fixing. As she stared at it, all the horrors of the previous night filtered back to her…the fire, her tenants’ screams, hands grabbing her, fists and boots pummeling her until she lost consciousness, coming back to life lying in the street in excruciating pain.

And then the man, this Sir Jeffrey Tinsdale, finding her and taking her into his carriage. Once again, she’d lapsed into nothingness until this morning.

But why had she slept so long? Who had undressed her, put her into a fine linen night shift, ensconced her in this luxurious bed?

As if guessing her questions, the maid came close to the bed and smiled down at her.

You’ve nothing to fear from anyone in this house, she soothed. Sir Jeffrey ordered the doctor fetched at once as he carried you inside. When Doctor Coat arrived and saw your condition, he immediately gave you a hearty dose of something called laudanum. It allowed me to remove your clothing and wash your wounds without causing you more discomfort. It worked its magic, because you stayed asleep until just now. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Whoever did this to you, miss, should be drawn and quartered, and no mistake. Imagine a carriage driver running you down and then leaving you to suffer in the cold and wet.

Touched by the young woman’s concern, Lottie reached out a bruised, scraped hand. After a slight hesitation, Lilly took it in hers. They smiled at each other.

Now, miss, I must get on with the day. Lilly drew herself up and once again became the efficient servant. I’ll be fetching your breakfast. Dr. Coat said we must get your strength back.

She swung away and left the room. Lottie was left with an overwhelming sense of how fortunate she’d been.

****

Later, after Lilly had fetched her a light breakfast as ordered by the doctor, Lottie, supported by pillows, put her teacup back in its saucer on the tray before her and decided it was time to learn more about her rescuer.

Lilly, she addressed the young woman working about the room. Have you been with your master—Sir Jeffrey—long? Her voice still sounded gravelly, but the tea and food had given her sufficient strength to talk, and she wanted to know more of the circumstances in which she found herself.

Since his marriage five years ago. Lilly turned and smiled at Lottie. I came here as lady’s maid to his wife, Lady Alise. At the mention of her former mistress, the young woman’s eyes watered a little.

They were a happy couple? Lottie caught herself asking. Longing for more knowledge of the man who’d taken her in made her curious.

Oh, my, yes, miss. Lilly came to the bed, a smile making rainbows of her unshed tears. They loved each other so very much. When she was killed, I feared for a while he’d choose to follow her to the grave. She turned away, swiping a hand over her eyes. Now I must be off. The nightshift you’re wearing is one that belonged to Lady Alise. Sir Jeffrey has given me the task of finding clothing for you from her wardrobe. She picked up the tattered dress from the chair. I’ll just be disposing of this.

Yes, dispose of it…please. Lottie suppressed a shudder. She wanted it gone, along with the terrible memories it held.

Is there some house I should visit to pick up your personal things? Lilly paused at the door. Her eyes asked a question that went much deeper.

No…no house. She avoided the maid’s eyes. She couldn’t blame the young woman for seeking to know more about this mysterious woman whom her master had brought in out of the night.

Very well, miss. I’ll just see to finding more clothing for you. She turned and left the room.

Alone, Lottie took the time to reflect. Douglas would have helped her, but in fear of losing his life, he’d fled to British North America, to a place called Riverhaven. Other than the tall, handsome young outlaw, she realized she knew of no one who would be willing to assist her, and he was too far away to come to her aid.

She’d have to rely on the kindness of Sir Jeffrey Tinsdale…at least temporarily.

Chapter Three

Reverend Jack Wallace sat in the chair beside his daughter’s bed and bowed his head in prayer. He’d tried not to ask the Lord for too many favors over his lifetime, but now he couldn’t refrain.

An image of her trying to protect a donkey a farmer had been abusing in the town street flashed into his mind. She’d rushed at the man, seizing his arm before he could